


In The Gardens of Ithilien

by droid_girl



Series: Trope-ical Places [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff, Remus Is A Good Man, Remus Is Overly Romantic, Sirius Black Lives, Soulmates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, WolfMate, slightly creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droid_girl/pseuds/droid_girl
Summary: Battles, by and large, were the worst goddamned place for any werewolf to discover their Mate.But Remus always did have a bit of shite luck.(Remus finds his Wolfmate; he's always been a bit too romantic for his own damned good)





	In The Gardens of Ithilien

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I took many liberties with canon.

**1994**

He knew something was off.

Largely, because he was naked, in the middle of a very green forest…and he was laying beside a _very_ angry Hippogriff.

“Fuck,” he barked eloquently, stumbling to his feet. The massive beast loosed a sound that only the very generous would have termed a ‘chirp’.

Something large, soft and dark flew at his head. Werewolf reflexes kicking in, Remus snatched it from mid-air.

“Best I could do, given the circumstances,” a familiar voice called out.

Hastily, Remus slipped on the badly transfigured robe.

“Buckbeak’s not going to eat you…though frankly, I think she’s a bit offended _you_ tried to eat _her_ last night,” Sirius offered.

“Well she was being a bit stroppy,” Remus answered, backing carefully away from Buckbeak. “I see you survived,”

“No, I’m dead. We’re both dead. This is obviously paradise,” Sirius panned flatly, rising from a low crouch. Tattered, filthy robes hung across his too-thin shoulders, a far, sad cry from the fine fabrics he had worn as a boy, back when he had been the scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

“Note the massive Hippogriff droppings,”

“Your wit is sharp as ever,” the werewolf sighed. Something niggled at the back of his mind. “Did I hurt anyone last night?”

“I don’t think so…” Sirius shook his head. “But I do think you’ve probably been sacked,”

“Sounds about right,” Remus nodded slowly.

He wasn’t surprised about that little titbit. Transforming into a werewolf on school grounds in front of students, after conveniently forgetting the full moon…if that wasn’t grounds for a good sacking, he had no idea what was.

What did surprise him was how oddly… _light_ …he felt. Something about the night before…something about a certain scent in the air…

“Oye,” Sirius snapped his fingers. “Stop daydreaming. We’ve got to get me somewhere safe,”

“Self-absorbed as ever are we?” Remus grinned crookedly, not ready to relinquish that weird, pleasant cloud in his head.

In the past year, he had experienced just such a sensation quite often. Enough so that he found his previously morose attitude towards life lifting to a point where someone actually dubbed him ‘cheerful’.

In all fairness to Sybill, she might have ingested too much of those herbs she favoured, that one staff meeting.

Sirius made a face. “You seem very happy for a man who has probably just lost his job…and who is in the midst of aiding and abetting the escape of a known felon. Care to explain?”

“No clue mate,” Remus shrugged. “Come on, let’s get you all tucked away somewhere,”

***

Much later, back in his own cottage, Remus sorted through the mountain of Muggle mail which had been stuffed messily into his mailbox.

Most of it got binned. There were numerous flyers describing sales at the local Waitrose; there were several takeout menus from a close-by Chinese restaurant. There were more takeout menus from the same restaurant. There was at least one brochure asking him if he’d like to attend the local Church, if only to save his immortal soul…

There was only one piece of mail that caught his interest, however.

The return address on the top left corner of the plain white envelope betrayed the fact that the letter had originated in London. Muggle London.

Carefully, Remus opened the letter, bracing himself for what he assumed would be bad news. Unfolding the crisp white sheet of paper, he skimmed rapidly through the typed content.

Then, quite slowly and far more carefully, Remus re-read the words laid out before him.

“Huh,” he said after a while, feeling quite pleasantly surprised. “ _That’s_ a bit of alright,”

 

**Mid-1997**

For the rest of his life, Remus rather doubted that he would forget that expression of abject horror on Antonin Dolohov’s face, as the Death Eater fell backwards into the weirdness that was The Veil.

He wouldn’t regret it however, nor would he be plagued by unnecessary guilt over what had transpired, and his own part in the whole, awful affair. At the end of it, how could he have _possibly_ regretted such a thing, considering what Dolohov had done?

“Stay with me, please,” he murmured to the young woman in his arms as Aurors streamed into the Department of Mysteries. To his unending distress, her head rolled listlessly to the side.

_She can’t die. I only just found her. She can’t die. I only just…_

“Help,” Sirius croaked hoarsely from where he was crouched over Neville Longbottom’s unmoving form. “We need help,”

Later, he would relish in the memory of being the one who had killed the man that granted Hermione Granger her first, cruel scar. But that was later.

In the present, all Remus could focus on was the fact that his newfound Mate had lost too much blood, and that her breaths were coming in too far apart. Over the course of mere minutes, the very thrum of her life had reduced itself from a steady rhythm, into nothing more than a faint pulse…

Battles, by and large, were the worst goddamned place for any werewolf to discover their Mate.

But Remus always did have a bit of shite luck.

***

“She’s a bit young,” Sirius pointed out, the moment they were alone in the Hospital Wing. Everyone else had retired for the night, never suspecting that they had left behind two wizards hiding under a disillusionment charm.

The only patient left in the Infirmary lay motionless before Sirius and Remus.

In the wake of the kerfuffle at the Ministry, what with Voldermort literally appearing and launching a full scale attack, nobody had thought to arrest Wizarding Britain’s _other_ most wanted. Indeed, it appeared that none of the Aurors had even noticed that Sirius Black had stolen in and out of the Ministry under their very nose.

Moody, Kingsley and Tonks all ought to be paid double for the good work they had been doing, both at their real jobs, and for their work with the Order, Remus reflected.

“I’m _well_ aware how old she is,” Remus sighed, running his fingers through his sandy hair, and tearing slightly at his pale locks in frustration. “It’s not like I get to choose these things,”

Hovering over Hermione, the werewolf studied her drawn features anxiously. It took everything in him not to reach out and touch her, if only to assure himself that she was still breathing. _Ten potions_ she needed, Madam Pomfrey had said, for how long, nobody knew.

“I’m just saying, it’s going look a bit odd with you courting a fifteen year old girl,” Sirius shrugged.

“Sixteen,”

“What?” Sirius stared blankly at him.

“She’s sixteen,” Remus cringed. “Not that it makes it any bloody better,”

“So how does this all work anyway? Does she feel it too? Did you always know? Actually, how _do_ you know?” Sirius asked curiously. A frown stole across his brow. “You were her teacher when she was fourteen, did you…”

“No, alright?” Remus said sharply, then added hesitantly. “Well I sensed the presence of someone who I thought might have been…but Sirius, I swear to you, I didn’t know _who_ it was,”

Merlin but he wanted to leave Hogwarts, wanted to be away from the source of his current anxiety.

Except that wasn’t true, not really.

What he wanted was to stay by Hermione’s side forever, to guard her and to protect her. He wanted to be there when she awoke, wanted to take her home with him. Deep in his soul, Remus understood that right beside the witch was his only chance at true peace in this lifetime.

“I know because I’ve been dreaming of her scent for years now,” Remus admitted. “I know because I smelled her _again_ tonight, the moment that bastard cut her open. Then I _touched_ her, and it was like…Sirius, it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s what you think heaven is like, but multiplied by a thousand,”

“Blimey,” his best friend stared at him. “Guess there’s upsides to this werewolf business,”

Remus laughed, though there was no trace of humour in the sound.

“The year I taught here was the first time in my life I felt happy, truly happy. I thought it was because I finally found my calling or something. Every once in a while, it was like a wave of… _joy_ would hit me. I didn’t figure it out until just now, when she got hurt, and then I smelled her lifeblood and…” he shut his mouth with a snap, realizing he was babbling like an idiot.

“Ah.” Sirius nodded, though he still didn’t look entirely happy at the werewolf’s answer. “You know, she saved my life. And she’s Harry’s best friend besides. You and I, we’ve been through hell and back, and we’ve been friends since we were children. But I can’t say I relish the thought that my best mate might have been perving on…”

“Do _not_ to finish that thought, I beg you,” Remus murmured in annoyance. “We should go,”

“Are you sure?” Sirius cocked his head to the side. “This does explain why you’ve been such a bundle of misery the last two years, ever since…”

“Yes, very good, you’ve put the puzzle together. Bravo,” Remus said quite tersely.

“No need to bite my head off,” Sirius muttered.

In the past year, Remus had watched as his blood brother unravelled into little more than a vaguely pathetic, mentally unstable figure. Or at least, unravel further than what he had already devolved into, immediately following his escape from Azkaban.

For whatever reason, the battle that just took place seemed somehow, to have grounded Sirius. Perhaps all the man had needed was a reminder of their true mission.

“Although I suppose I wouldn’t mind finding a Muggle pub. Maybe get into a fight or something,” his best friend continued. “Is there one of those football games on tonight do you think? I’m sure I could work up some sort of reasonable insult,”

Alright, so maybe Sirius needed a bout of violence to bring him back to earth. Which wasn’t exactly a symptom of mental stability, but Remus would take what he could get.

The werewolf looked around quickly to ensure no one else was about. Taking a deep breath, he sat down at the edge of Hermione’s pallet and reached out to grasp at her hand.

 _Fucking hell, but touching her felt right,_ he thought as a surge of euphoria rushed through him. It was bliss with a touch of dread. Too soon, he knew, he would have to release her, because of so many reasons he didn’t care to go over in his mind.

“Get better,” he whispered. “We have a whole life ahead of us. I’m not ready to lose you so soon. I wish I could stay…”

Bringing her knuckles to his lips, he pressed a kiss to Hermione’s warm skin, before setting her hand gently upon her blanket covered belly.

“So that’s it then? You know she’s just going to be _yours_ one day?” Sirius asked, arching a dark brow at him as both wizards hurried for the Infirmary doors.

“She’s already mine,” Remus said matter-of-factly. “We’ll always find our way to each other, one way or another. Now that I’ve found her, I won’t ever find satisfaction with anyone else but her, nor she with anyone else but me,”

“You’re quoting something. You have your Quote-face on. Satisfaction comes in quite a few different forms you know,” Sirius remarked amicably.

“She won’t,” Remus said shortly.

“One word.” Sirius smirked. “ _Batteries_ ,”

“For fuck’s…were you always this much of a pain?”

Leaving behind the heavy wooden doors of the Hospital Wing, neither men seemed particularly aware that Hermione had not in fact, been sleeping.

As such, they missed the slight curve of her lips. The pleased expression she wore was that of a woman who had finally solved a long-standing mystery…and who, for the first time in sixteen years, finally understood what it was she had been missing her entire life.

 

**Early 1998**

“Remus,” a familiar voice purred.

“Don’t look now,” Sirius stage-whispered as the two men strolled down the corridor. “But I think you’ve been spotted,”

“Oh do you really?” Remus questioned sarcastically.

It wasn’t fair; the Library was only a few feet away. He had been hoping to do a quick patrol through the stacks, the way he did every time he was on duty. More accurately, he was hoping to bump into a certain witch again, accidentally-on-purpose.

Their conversations always left him so…glad

Now though, now he had to find some sort of escape route to get away from the admittedly gorgeous woman in front of him. Aurora Sinistra was nothing if not the secret fantasy of most breathing men, what with her full bosom, her tiny waist and her ample hips.

Lustrous dark hair, cherry red lips and high cheekbones made her a veritable Morticia Addams in full technicolour glory, although Remus suspected that reference might get lost on Sirius.

Since apparition wasn’t an option, perhaps he ought to just leap from a turret window. If he was very lucky, he might smash his skull on impact and die.

“Remus, I find it quite unforgivable that you haven’t stopped by even _once_ to say hello,” Aurora spoke in that breathy voice of hers.

To his vivid recollection, Remus himself had fallen victim to that voice more than once, during the year he still worked here as a Professor. The relationship had ended abruptly upon his sacking, and subsequent admission that he wasn’t really in the market for a long term relationship. Not with her anyway.

If he looked carefully, Remus could still find the hex marks she had left imprinted on his skin.

“My friend,” Sirius grinned dashingly. “Is clearly an idiot. The name’s Sirius Black, by the way,”

“Oh?” Aurora paused, peering up at Remus’s best friend. Her smile widened imperceptibly, as she extended a pale, slender hand out. “ _The_ Sirius Black?”

These days, now that he was no longer a wanted man, now that he was in full possession of his inheritance, Sirius no longer resembled the gaunt, frightening convict he had been from a year ago.

Indeed, he looked _better_ than he did, when he had still been in his early twenties. No, life certainly wasn’t very fair, Remus decided.

“The one and only,” Sirius nodded slowly, before reaching out to enfold her hand in his own.

Watching the two of them shaking hands made Remus incredibly uncomfortable.

There was something quite obscene in the way the two in front of him were practically eye-fucking each other. In the middle of a school full of impressionable children, no less…though admittedly, there were no children anywhere in sight.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get…acquainted…” the werewolf backed off slowly.

Sirius looked up over Aurora Sinistra’s head, and mouthed, “You owe me,”

Seizing on the window of opportunity with which he had been presented, Remus fled.

***

Strolling between the shelves, Remus did his best to pretend as if he were actually trying to do his duty. That is, to guard the school from Death Eaters, followers of the Dark Lord, and in general, little shits who were looking to cause real trouble.

The hour was late, and there weren’t that many students about. Those who were still in the library, were almost all _actually_ studying. Consequently, they paid little mind to the man who used to teach there.

A few times, he spotted some students reading that bestselling novel currently taking both the Muggle and Wizarding Community by storm - _Duelling Gorgons_ , it was titled, written by one R.M.J. Lemming.

“…and then in my fifth year, in a match against Ravenclaw, I executed this wicked dive. You should have been there,”

“I probably was,” a familiar voice answered drily. “We go to the same school. We’re in the same house. My best friend is the Gryffindor Seeker,”

“Right on, so you _did_ see it. Amazing wasn’t it?”

Remus froze mid-step as he rounded a corner. Narrowing his eyes, he took in the unwelcome sight of Hermione and some teenage wanker - McLaggen was his last name, if he remembered correctly - huddling against a bookcase.

To be precise, McLaggen was trying to huddle. Hermione was pressed flat up against a hard surface with her arms wrapped around a Runes textbook, as if the tome would shield her from her obnoxious schoolmate.

“Am I interrupting something?” Remus asked mildly, hoping his irritation was well masked. He really shouldn’t have said anything, but the sight of some other male attempting to touch his Mate…

“No,” Hermione gritted out.

“Yes,” McLaggen said at the same moment.

Tucking his hands in the pockets of his favourite black jacket - which was quite old, and really, he ought to replace it - Remus took another step closer to the not-so-happy couple.

“Hermione?” Remus asked gently, doing his best not to fling the idiot boy to the other side of the library.

“What are you even doing here?” McLaggen demanded, not budging from his spot. “You don’t work here anymore half-breed, so bugger off,”

Something hot and bitter rose at the back of Remus’s throat as the little pillock attempted to sling his arm around the petite witch. _His_ witch.

“Cormac McLaggen, do not force me to take points from our own house,” Hermione gritted out.

Reluctantly, she reached up and shoved the boy away with the tips of her fingers. The expression she wore made it seem as if touching McLaggen was akin to touching something quite foul and disgusting. It went a long way towards mollifying Remus’s temper.

“Enough is enough, I’ve put up with your harassment for months…”

“Harassment?” McLaggen sputtered, stepping away as if he had been burned. His face turned an unattractive shade of puce. “Someone like you ought to be grateful I’m giving you the time of day…”

“Someone like me,” Hermione echoed sharply. “And what do you mean by that?”

 _This ought to be interesting_ , Remus thought. Propping his shoulder against a wall, he waited for the fireworks.

“You know what I mean Mu…”

The boy found himself rudely silenced. Then, very unpleasantly, he began to sneeze quite violently.

“Bat Bogey Hex?” Remus wondered aloud.

“Not quite,” Hermione smirked, twisting her wandless hand in an impressive show of skill. “Close however,”

In a matter of seconds, Cormac McLaggen found himself absolutely covered in dripping thick green mucus. He would have shrieked in alarm had he not been silenced. Instead, the boy was reduced to running for the Library doors, his mouth open in a soundless wail of terror.

“That was…” Remus was caught between admiration, amusement and disgust. “Something,”

Laughing girlishly, a sound which the wizard decided was the best sound in the world, Hermione crossed the space between them, though she stopped about a foot away from him.

The expanse felt like an eternity, Remus thought. Still though, she was standing closer to him than ever she had done.

All the other times he had ‘run into her’, she had been in the company of Harry and Ron.

“I might have created that spell just for him,” Hermione admitted, grinning up a him. Compared to how she appeared when he found her only a few minutes ago, the young woman seemed to have relaxed by exponential degrees.

Not for the first time, Remus wondered if she could feel the bond between them, drawing them closer all the time…

“It was quite appropriate,” Remus resisted the urge to sniff at her. “Has he really been harassing you all year?”

“Whenever he could find me,” Hermione shuddered. “It’s been a bit of a run-and-hide routine,”

The protective anger he experienced earlier began to rise in his chest once more.

“Do you need someone to…” he managed to start.

“No,” she said hurriedly, taking another step towards him. “I don’t think he’ll bother me again after tonight,”

“I don’t know about that,” Remus found himself worried at the prospect of an angry McLaggen looking to get some sort of ill-advised revenge against the young woman standing before him.

“If he tries anything, I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve,” Hermione promised assuringly. “Some of them involve canaries,”

They were close enough now, it wouldn’t take very much at all for him to crash his lips against hers. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that Hermione was still only seventeen, and he was…well. He wasn’t seventeen, that was for sure.

It would be years before he would even be willing to breach those final inevitable inches between them.

Nonetheless, that resolve did not stop Remus from wanting to know what it would be like to kiss Hermione, really, truly kiss her.

Clenching his fists in his pockets, his eyes widened as his witch stepped in closer. There was a sly gleam in her lovely dark eyes that thrilled and terrified him all at once.

“I just saw the most disgusting sight,” Sirius voice crashed through the silence of the library, signalling his approach.

For a split second, Remus both loved and hated his best friend - he had interrupted what would most likely have been a catastrophic occurrence.

Without a doubt, a kiss between himself and Hermione would break through his already weak defences. Chances were, he wouldn’t be very willing at all to leave her side, the moment they finally got around to acknowledging their soul-bond with tangible proof.

Hermione was young enough still, that inevitably tying her to him would simply not be very fair to her. She had a whole world yet to explore. The way he understood these things, once they settled into each other, their bond would be quite insistent in its strength, that they should always be in each other’s physical sphere.

Or at least, that’s what all the damned literature said.

“I just watched a living ball of snot running for the Hospital Wing,” Sirius laughed as he materialized in the nook where Remus and Hermione had more or less been hiding.

Had he not known the other man as well as he did, Remus might have missed that knowing furrow in the other man’s brow as he took in the sight of the both himself and Hermione standing so close to each other. Casually, Sirius somehow wedged himself between the both of them.

“Hermione did that,” Remus said after a beat. Almost proudly, he added, “She created that hex,”

“What did the poor bloke do to deserve that?” Sirius asked, turning his dark eyes towards a slightly disappointed-looking witch, looking more than a little impressed.

“He insulted Professor Lupin,” Hermione shrugged. “And he’s got a habit of being a pain in my arse,”

“ _Remus_ ,” the werewolf supplied.

“ _I’m_ a pain in your arse,” Sirius pointed out quite accurately, ignoring his friend. “Thank you for not inflicting that on me,”

“I see you've somehow extricated yourself from Aurora,” Remus observed with a sigh, realizing his moment with Hermione was done and over with.

“She’s quite persistent, isn’t she?” Sirius marvelled with a suggestive grin. “Bet she was great fun in the sack, eh Moony?”

The werewolf felt, rather than saw Hermione stiffen. Snapping his gaze towards his Mate, Remus found to his dismay that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. What lovely sweetness had passed between them only seconds ago, had evaporated into so much nothing.

“I should get to bed,” she murmured, fussing at the strap of her book bag as she sidestepped Sirius.

“Wait,” Remus started.

“Good night gentlemen,” Hermione looked up again, this time with a blank smile. Before he could get another word out, she was gone.

“What the hell is your problem?” Remus demanded, rounding on his best friend who met his anger with admirable calmness.

“She’s still seventeen,” Sirius stated flatly. “Don’t be an idiot,”

“I wasn’t doing _anything_ ,” Remus growled.

“No, but you were thinking it,”

“No,” Remus ground out. “I really wasn’t. I am perfectly capable of controlling myself. You on the other hand, brought up something private and personal which I shared with another woman. Fucking hell Sirius…what you did was disrespectful to _Aurora_ , and to Hermione _both_. You understand that right?”

Before his eyes, his best friend wavered in his stance, before crumbling into what appeared to be genuine remorse.

“Sorry,” Sirius mumbled, rubbing sheepishly at his neck. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right, that was out of line. I wasn’t thinking,”

“No you really weren’t. And if you think I’d actually do something stupid to hurt Hermione… Christ, it’s like you don’t know me at all,” Remus spat. Turning on his heel, he stormed away from the man he’d been friends with for practically a lifetime.

***

The next day found a basket of singing tulips on his stoop, along with a very sincerely worded note from Sirius. There was also a very fine bottle of Laphroaig sticking out from the side of the bouquet, which, in all honesty, Remus appreciated far more.

***

The night after found him at the pub, sitting across from his best friend.

“This round’s on me, and so is the next,” Sirius said magnanimously.

“I wasn’t intending on buying a single pint tonight,” Remus replied archly. He fussed at the lapels of his new jacket, which resembled almost exactly, his old one.

“Not quite fair considering…” his friend looked meaningfully towards a woman seated at the bar, reading a copy of _Duelling Gorgons_.

“Shhhh,” the werewolf shushed, looking this way and that as he scratched at his neck. His new checked shirt should probably have been washed first before he threw it on. “Not really looking for that kind of attention,”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius laughed, relaxing into his seat. “But think about all the girls you could pull if they only knew…”

“Unlike you, I don’t really have to try,” Remus smirked. “Animal magnetism and all that,”

“It’s true isn’t it? Not entirely sure what my cousin sees you in though,” his best friend grimaced.

Taking a gulp of Ogden’s Old, Remus did his best not to let his cheer dip, as he considered Nymphadora Tonks and her Endless Suit of Romance.

 

**Mid 1998**

The battle was a disaster, and the casualties they suffered were almost too much to think about.

Battered, bloody and grieving, the lot of them limped towards the Hospital Wing with a mauled Bill Weasley in tow. Ridiculously, Remus felt as if he were somehow responsible for Bill’s state of injury, as if it were his fault that Fleur Delacour looked ready to start sobbing every other second.

“Stop it,” Sirius mumbled out the corner of his mouth. “You’re not helping,”

“I didn’t say anything,” Remus grumbled.

The two of them watched as Bill was laid carefully into a hospital pallet.

“You didn’t have to, I can hear you thinking,” his best friend said. “Fenrir Greyback isn’t your responsibility,”

“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Remus disagreed. “And I’ve had plenty,”

“He’s a psychopath, he would have killed you first.” Sirius grunted.

A deeply familiar scent filled the air, which set Remus into a heightened state of awareness. Turning his attention to the entranceway his eyes widened as he spotted Hermione entering the room, propped up on the shoulder of Ron Weasley.

Her forehead was bleeding.

“Shit,” he murmured, striding forwards. Not quite caring what the red-headed boy thought, Remus swept an arm under Hermione’s shoulders and another under her knees. Swiftly, he carried her towards an empty bed.

“Mate, a little warning,” Ron sounded angry, though Remus suspected the boy’s fury had more to do with all that had transpired over the course of the night. Spying the entirety of the Weasley clan milling only a few feet away, Ron hurried to join them.

“What happened?”

“ _Felix Felicis_ ,” she sighed dejectedly, burrowing her nose into his shirt. “Which wore off as I was climbing the stairs. You can put me down now, I’m not actually hurt,”

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed out as he deposited her onto the thin mattress of an empty pallet. Crouching in front of her, he muttered a quick cantrip to determine the extent of her physical injuries.

“Yes that tends to happen when you slip and slam your head into a banister,” she explained as he cast a simple _Episkey_ to heal the wound on her forehead. “I’m not here to see Madam Pomfrey, I was here to see Bill, and see if I could find Harry,”

“We thought he was with you,” Sirius said worriedly. Remus hadn’t even realized his best friend was immediately behind him. “I’m going to go find him. Moony you…just be careful, alright?”

Huffing indignantly, Remus retained his focus on Hermione. “What year is it? Whose the Prime Minister?”

“It’s 1998, and Willy Wonka rules my nation of Oompa Loompas,” Hermione retorted. “I fell down Professor Lupin, I’m not senile,”

“It’s _Remus_ , not Professor anything,” Remus shook his head with a small smile, feeling suddenly a little less despairing despite…well. All the carnage. And the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Merlin this soulmate thing was certainly going to be problematic in certain settings. “Are you sure you’re not nauseas or…”

“This conversation is making me nauseas, yes,” Hermione too, seemed torn between confusion, fondness and sadness. “How’s Bi… _oh_ ,”

There was some sort of implosion occurring with the Weasleys, which seemed centred on Molly and Fleur. If he had to guess, the Weasley matriarch had insulted the half-Veela woman.

In companionable silence, Remus and Hermione surveyed the drama as it unfolded and ended in remarkably short order. As shouts transformed into hugs, Remus turned towards Hermione with what would likely have been an ill-advised quip about Oompa Loompas.

Before he could get the words out however, out the corner of his eye, he saw a very determined looking Nymphadora Tonks making a beeline towards him.

“Please not now,” Remus groaned.

“What?” Hermione sounded confused. “What’s wrong?”

Tonks stopped in front of him, her large - currently - blue eyes filled with heartfelt sincerity. She opened her mouth.

***

“No,” he said, the moment they were alone outside the gates of Hogwarts.

“Why not?” Tonks demanded. Her bottom lip quivered.

“Where do I even begin?” Remus rubbed at his forehead, feeling quite spent.

Once more, Hermione had departed from his presence in silence, looking for all the world as if she had been slapped the moment Tonks finished her heartfelt monologue.

Increasingly, he suspected that Hermione was more than aware of that weird and wonderful thread which lay between them…though if she did know, she ought also realize that he wasn’t about to fall into something as patently ridiculous as a romance with the Metamorphmagus.

That was the theory anyway, based on everything he had been reading. The books told him his Mate would instinctively sense the deep devotion he felt for her, and her alone. Judging from the scowl on her face as she stormed off however, Remus started to wonder if perhaps the texts weren’t a bit too…romantic.

“I don’t feel that way about you,” Remus said at last, straightening his back. “I don’t want to be with you, in any way, shape or form. Not now, not ever,”

“But why not?” Tonks asked a tad plaintively. “We could be so good together,”

“You really need to ask yourself if you want this because you can’t have this,” Remus turned to leave. “Or because you actually want a boyfriend,”

“Remus…”

“We’re done. This conversation is done,” Remus spun on his heel to glare at the young woman. “Albus Dumbledore is dead, and we’re all in _a lot_ of trouble. This is not the time, nor place for your immature theatrics. _Goodnight_ Tonks,”

With a step to the right, he disapparated with a loud, angry pop.

 

**Bill and Fleur’s Wedding, 1998**

He watched from the bar as Hermione swayed on the dance floor. This was the first time he had ever seen her clad in dress robes, and the sight was something to behold, what with red silk clinging on to her every, very-womanly curve. Her hair was gathered up in some intricate knot, exposing the slender slope of her neck to his ravenous eyes.

It was all rather spoiled by the fact that she was currently encased in the arms of a hulking male, whom he was told, was some famous Quidditch player. Viktor Kruller or whatever.

“You’re going to break that glass you’re holding,” Sirius said, strolling up beside him.

“You have lipstick on your collar,” Remus answered without missing a beat. “Aurora?”

“No,” his best friend smirked. “Lana Prewett. I think, anyway,”

“Is that actually her name or are you simply guessing?” Remus questioned, turning away from the sight of his Mate dancing with another man.

“Names are overrated,” Sirius sipped at his red wine, grinning without an ounce of shame.

Setting his empty tumbler down on the charmed counter, Remus waited for his whiskey to refill itself. “Did Harry tell you anything? About this mission of theirs?”

“He won’t talk,” the Animagus’s expression darkened. Clearly, what deep affection Sirius’s godson bore for him had done nothing to weaken Harry’s resolve. Remus could respect that, or he would’ve, if he didn’t know Hermione was getting dragged along on some disastrous ride… one which might well end in her demise, or worse.

For the first time, the werewolf wondered at the wisdom of his policy of distance. What if he never saw her again after tonight? What if something happened, and he wasn’t there to protect her, or take care of her? What if…

“Mate, if I were you, I’d go say my farewells now,” Sirius nodded towards the dance floor, looking quite grim. “I don’t know much, but I do know they’re looking to leave sometime tomorrow, or the day after,”

“Damn it all to hell,” Remus swore, abandoning his full tumbler in favour of striding towards Hermione, who seemed to be having quite a blast with this Viktor fellow. At any rate, she acted completely unaware of the anxious werewolf bearing down on her.

“Might I cut in?” he asked, proud of himself for remaining so polite.

“Remus!” Hermione seemed a bit giddy. Remus wondered if she had been drinking as he took in her too-bright smile.

Unbidden, he remembered all those ridiculous Daily Prophet articles from two years ago - the ones written by a Rita Somethingorother. The articles had detailed a torrid love affair between the two individuals standing before him, one of whom was his bloody mystical Wolfmate.

Without any warning, Remus suddenly found his ability to breath being impeded, as grey eyes drifted to where Viktor Krum - yes, he had always known the other man’s _sodding_ name - had one hand rested comfortably at _his_ witch’s waist. Calloused fingers were splayed possessively over the swell of Hermione’s hip.

Were it any closer to the full moon, were Remus a different sort of werewolf, the man holding Hermione might have suffered a far less courteous introduction.

“Have you met Viktor?” Hermione leaned towards him, gently disentangling herself from her dance partner. In a stage whisper, she informed Remus, “He’s a famous Quidditch player,”

“You shouldn’t let her drink,” Remus growled, reaching for her hands. Unceremoniously, he drew the woman into the circle of his own embrace. The hulking athlete looked a bit confused, and a trifle put-out that his ‘date’ had been so easily filched from under his nose. “She’s tiny,”

“I am not tiny,” Hermione protested, though she didn’t seem inclined to resist Remus’s intentions. “I’ll have you know, I’m five foot _one_ ,”

“As I said, _tiny_ ,” Remus laughed, ignoring the Bulgarian. Viktor proceeded to stomp off, the moment it became obvious that his presence had been forgotten by his dance partner.

Taking a moment to enjoy the feel of Hermione in his arms and the slide of her body against his own, Remus led her into a slow two-step. Deliberately, he seized her left hand and pressed it against his chest, placing her palm directly over his heart. Perhaps it was all the Irish whiskey he had been imbibing on, but he couldn’t bring himself to introduce distance between the both of them just then.

“I was starting to think you would never claim a dance with me tonight,” she confided softly, leaning her face into the crook of his neck.

This was dangerous. But then, so was what she intended to do the moment this reception was over.

“Wrong,” he allowed himself just a few more seconds of simply _being_ with her. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the smell of her hair. “My intention has always been to claim. I was simply waiting for the perfect moment. I’m still waiting, in fact,”

“Oh?” she looked up at him from under long, dark lashes.

“Hermione…” he hesitated, and plunged ahead. “Don’t,”

“Don’t what?” she inquired, tilting her head to the side as she leaned back to meet his steady gaze.

“Don’t leave. Don’t run off…” _don’t go where I can’t follow because we haven’t even begun_ , he wanted to add.

“Ah,” she sounded less than impressed. “So that’s what this is about. I should have known you were here as a representative of The Harry Potter Intervention Brigade,”

“No,” he pressed on. “Wrong again. This is the _Hermione_   _Granger_ Intervention Brigade. I know you lot are off on some super secret mission…”

“Of utmost importance,” she murmured. “I’ve already taken the necessary precautions, there’s no going back,”

Disquiet began to overwhelm his senses.

“What do you mean,” he asked carefully. “When you say ‘precautions’,”

“My parents. I _Obliviated_ them. They’re somewhere on the other side of the planet as we speak,” she leaned back into his shoulder, sounding not very drunk at all. “I had to keep them safe,”

“Hermione,” he said.

“I had no choice,” she continued.

“ _Hermione_ ,”

“You don’t understand,”

“I doubt very much that you do, either,” he blurted out.

“If I wanted your opinion,” her expression hardened ever so slightly. “I would have asked for it,”

“Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did,” he said quietly, trying to ward off a creeping sense of horror. “Please tell me,”

“Who am I to you that you should care so?” she asked.

There was something in her expression that gave Remus pause, something demanding and challenging all at once. The bond between them sparked and ignited, but for the first time, the wizard didn’t feel quite so well in its presence.

It would have been insulting to her, and to him, to continue pretending why it mattered so. After all, she was the smartest witch of her generation, and Remus would have been foolish to assume she didn’t sense the same things he did every single time they orbited each other.

“I think you know,” he loosened his hold on her small hand, though his arm stayed wrapped loosely around her waist. Even now, he wanted, _craved_ the feel of her. “I think you can understand why I’m upset. You can’t just steal someone’s life from them. That’s…that’s wrong. It’s heinous is what it is,”

There was a loud crash in the middle of the room. Several someones began to scream. Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice rose up, stirring chaos in its wake.

“That’s what I thought,” she nodded, and there was something infinitely sad in her expression. Something ripped in his being, knowing that he was letting her down, but how was he supposed to be _fine_ with what she had done?

How was he supposed to be fine, knowing that he was bonded with…that he was addicted to, practically in love with someone who could so cruelly…

“There are no such things as fairy tales Remus. I’m sorry.” she said softly, so only he could hear. “I’m so sorry,”

Before he could wrap his arms firmly around Hermione to keep her by his side, she was already slipping away. Try as he might, he could not part the sea of humanity keeping her away from him. Multiple popping noises filled the air, betraying the fact that the anti-apparition wards had all been breached…

By the time Remus made his way out of the throngs of terrified wedding guests, he already knew a horrible truth.

She was gone.

 

**Christmas 1998**

The bottle was almost empty between them, but that was alright. They had another.

“The worst part,” Remus slurred as he emptied the dregs of the first bottle into his glass. “The worst part, is _everything_ ,”

“Christmas in the kingdom of the Dark Lord,” Sirius rasped in agreement.

The two men were seated in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, drinking the holidays away. They were also the only ones in the decrepit townhouse, which Remus not-so-secretly thought needed a good clean.

Kreacher had long ago been banished to the kitchens of Hogwarts. It was a far better fate than he deserved, considering the little wretch’s treachery.

“I’m lying,” Remus shook his head after he took a large sip of Ogden’s Old. “The worst part is, I think she left believing I hated her,”

“Don’t you?” Sirius asked, swaying where he sat. His dark eyes were having trouble focusing. “I thought you did. You kept going on about…”

“I never hated her. I couldn’t,” Remus interrupted. “I thought I hated that I was soul-bonded to someone who could be so cruel, so callous with those whom she claimed to love. Nowadays, what with everything that’s been going on, I think she had the right idea to begin with…”

“You turned her into this…” Sirius hiccuped and waved his hands vaguely in the air. “…into this _paragon of virtue_. You never stopped to think she was just a person,”

“The books told me…”

“The books. Those fucking books. They told you you’d find your…your _Wolfmate_ , and everything would just fall into place,” Sirius chuckled, forcing himself to sit up straight with obvious effort. “But I suppose you two are made for each other. She would have trusted the books too, heart and soul,”

“She would’ve wouldn’t she?” Remus laughed aloud.

“Fuck. If I could save the lives of James and Lily by wiping their minds,” Sirius stared off into space. Slowly, he raised his own tumbler and took a long sip, before he concluded, “Don’t think I wouldn’t have done it,”

“I fucked up,” Remus stared down into his brown liquor. “I fucked up Sirius, and I can’t even fix it,”

“It’s not over till it’s over,” Sirius patted Remus’s hand. “She’s still out there, somewhere. If she’s anything like you, she’s probably also making life hell for Harry and Ron,”

It was all Remus had left to hold on to, the belief that she was alive and well somewhere…even if every day, it felt more and more as if he were lying to himself.

In his dreams, he often found her cold and shivering; he watched helplessly as she braced herself desperately against a dark, seeping despair that wanted to take her whole.

In his dreams, he couldn’t even begin to save her from that monstrous shadow which loomed over her very soul, constantly whispering hateful lies into her beating heart.

Slumping down onto the wooden surface of the kitchen counter, Remus squinted up at the flickering lamps. “If she ever comes home…I swear, I’m done hiding. I’ll never let her go. Not ever, not again.”

“If she comes home, you’re making me your best man,” Sirius sighed. “God knows, I fucking deserve it after all this endless whinging,”

The Animagus barely ducked in time from the empty beer can Remus lobbed at his head.

 

**Spring 1999**

The two wizards landed in Bill’s kitchen answering his urgent summons to the entire Order…only to find the lot of them sipping on flutes of Prosecco. All of them except Fleur Delacour anyway - _she_ seemed quite content to sip at a cup of tea.

“We thought this was an emergency,” Sirius lifted his brows, though he accepted a flute all the same.

Laughing, Bill toasted him. “It was. It is. These days, any chance to celebrate is an emergency…and _I_ say the fact that I’m about to be a father is excuse enough,”

Immediately, Sirius’s shoulders slumped in relief. Laughing, he slung the glass of golden bubbly back.

“You’re a good sort Bill Weasley,” Remus’s best friend told the proud Father-To-Be. Turning to the expectant mother, he grinned and informed her, “And you’re generous as all hell, to take pity on this man by agreeing to bear his children,”

“My mother always did say I was too kind,” Fleur smirked, practically glowing.

Remus had yet to move from his place near the hob. The air crackled with an unmistakable scent.

“Hermione,” he breathed, meeting Bill’s startled blue eyes. “She’s here,”

“What? No, of course she’s not,” Bill frowned.

Sirius set down his empty glass.

“Yes, she is,” Remus insisted. His senses didn’t lie; they couldn’t. Very carefully, he began to step forwards. He fully intended on searching for his Mate from the rafters of Shell Cottage, down to its very foundations. “How long has she…”

“Remus, stop…” Bill studied him carefully. All around, the rest of the room had fallen silent. Behind her eldest son, Molly’s eyes widened as she understood the implications.

“Bill, was Ron here?” the matriarch asked. Her voice was tremulous with hope.

“Yes,” the Curse Breaker admitted, sounding almost resigned as his wife rose to her feet. “They all were,”

“Were,” Remus repeated. “Where are they now? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“They made me swear not to tell anyone. They have a mission,” Bill studied his glass of champagne very closely. Kingsley, Tonks and his own father stared at him in shock.

When he looked up, his gaze found only Remus’s, as though understanding something no one else present could have. “She was hurt,”

“What do you mean _hurt_?” Sirius barked impatiently. “What about Harry?”

Fleur made a noise that sounded suspiciously like the caw of a very dangerous bird. “Do not speak to him that way,”

“Darling…Fleur…it’s alright,” Bill assured his wife, before he turned back towards the assembled crowd. “Harry was unhurt, and so was Ron. It was only Hermione. You see, the three of them had been captured. Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback…they tortured her, and only her…”

Under his skin, Remus could feel his wolf rearing its head in a furious, sorrowful howl at the thought of Hermione being forced to scream, to bleed.

“She’s fine. She’ll heal,” Bill added at last. “She’s strong Remus, she barely cried as we sealed her wounds. What wounds we could heal, anyhow…”

Without another word, Remus turned and left.

***

That night, he emptied a whole bottle of Glenrothes all on his own without Sirius’s help. This was despite the fact that his best friend had persisted in knocking all goddamn night at his front door, like an actual lunatic.

 

**Final Battle, Hogwarts, 1999**

The battleground reeked of smoke, blood and death, but above the stink of loss and fear, Remus scented the unmistakable bloom of Hermione.

Twisting, dodging and firing spells left and right, he lost all sense of time as he focused on both staying alive, and on finding his Mate. When at last he stumbled on Hermione, Remus found himself almost swooning in relief.

In the midst of all the fighting, she stood, all five foot one of her, like a magnificent goddess of war. Like an enraged lioness, she roared as she destroyed her enemies, and decimated all who sought to rise against her. Against the screeching, bitter wind filled with magic, her curls flowed around her like a living thing.

“Moony, for fuck’s sake, _focus_!” Sirius yelled beside him.

The other man looked as if someone had granted him a reprieve from death, which was hardly surprising. Only twenty minutes before, they had all thought his godson dead. Now, with renewed vigour and hope, the Order fought as if they had been possessed by the spirit of the Morrigan themselves.

Instinct taking over, Remus turned his attention back to the battle. Raising his wand, he gave a roar of his own and leapt after their enemies.

With Hermione so close, losing was _not_ an option.

***

Covered in soot and grime, Remus stumbled towards a dazed Hermione, who regarded him blankly.

“We won?” she asked softly, looking quite confused.

“Seems like it,” he caught her as she crumbled bonelessly towards the ground. “You’re hurt,”

“Just a flesh wound,” she assured, though she looked more dazed than he would have liked. Her right sleeve was soaked in blood. “Don’t worry about me,”

“I won’t,” he lied, listening to the faltering rhythm of her heart and the laboured pace of her breathing.

For one hazy moment, Remus thought to compare the woman in his arms to Eowyn of Rohan; though if she were the Shieldmaiden of the Riddermark, would he not in turn, be her Faramir?

Then, an echo of Hermione’s words from almost a year ago flitted through his mind.

_“There are no such things as fairy tales Remus.”_

Hermione’s breathing stuttered to a brief stop. Dark eyes fluttered close, as she became lost to the world.

Panicking, Remus hoisted her firmly into his arms. Without wasting another second, the werewolf began to run across the smouldering ruin that had once been their world.

***

“Nothing a few blood replenishing potions won’t fix,” Madam Pomfrey assured briskly from the quiet corner where he had laid Hermione. It was one of the few private rooms the Hospital Wing had, and Remus had selfishly decided that his witch would receive all the peace she could get.

“A few strengthening charms too. The girl’s not been eating enough, and the fight simply took it out of her, that’s all…”

 _That’s all_ , Remus thought bitterly. His arms were crossed as he stood guard over Hermione.

“Although…” Madam Pomfrey frowned. The woman tugged at the blood-encrusted sleeve on Hermione’s right arm…and hissed in shock at what she found underneath the filthy fabric.

Standing at the foot of his witch’s bed, Remus tasted bile as he saw what had been carved into Hermione’s flesh

Even under the still-seeping blood and the faint traces of pus, he could see the hateful word for what it was.

“She’s dead,” Harry said flatly. The boy had found his way to Remus’s side, together with an exhausted Ron. Behind the hero of the hour, Sirius stared down at Hermione’s arm in horror and sorrow. “Bellatrix was killed during the battle. It was she who did that,”

“Pity,” Remus said with quiet intensity, shifting his gaze to take in Hermione’s wan features. It _was_ far too bad the madwoman had already been dealt with. Had Bellatrix lived, Remus would have seen to it that she died screaming.

“And Greyback?” Sirius asked after a moment, obviously remembering what Bill had told them of the old wolf’s part in Hermione’s deliberate scarring.

“No one knows,” Ron shook his head as he sat down by Hermione’s unmoving form. Easily, he reached out and grabbed the witch’s left hand, while Poppy fussed at the infected wound on the young woman’s other side.

“He’s dead,” Remus said flatly, doing his best not to growl at the red-headed wizard. At present, with Hermione injured as she was, his wolf was struggling hard not to assert its territorial instincts. “I killed him myself,”

“Ron, leave Hermione be,” Sirius called out to the young wizard. There was an unspoken warning in his voice. “She needs her rest,”

“I should see to George,” Ron nodded resignedly as he rose to his feet and shuffled off.

Belatedly, Remus remembered that Fred Weasley was one of the many casualties they had suffered. Him and Tonks both, had fallen as they attempted to defend each other from their enemies. It would have been a romantic picture, were it not so fucking awful.

Who else had died, the werewolf didn’t even know. Not yet, anyhow.

Abruptly, all his anger left him, leaving him with nothing but an empty, aching sadness for all they had lost. Brushing past Remus, Harry approached Hermione and dropped a light kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be back,” James’s son promised the witch.

As he turned to leave, Harry cast the werewolf a bemused stare, as if wondering why his former professor was concerning himself so deeply over Hermione’s welfare.

Ignoring Harry’s curious expression, Remus moved to settle himself by Hermione’s side, taking care not to jostle her. Madam Pomfrey bestowed both himself and Sirius a look of utter fatigue, before she as well hurried off. The woman was clearly too beleaguered to question why Remus persisted at the young woman’s side.

“What now?” Sirius asked, running a tired hand over his grimy face. “What happens when she wakes up?”

“When she wakes up, we’re going to have a very long talk,” Remus threaded his fingers lightly through Hermione’s curls, revelling in the fact that he was finally beside his Mate once again. The feel of her silky strands against his skin felt impossibly wonderful.

Sirius reached out and offered his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“I still expect to be your best man,” he said gruffly.

Spinning on his heel, the Animagus left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

***

It was late in the night when Hermione finally stirred. As her shoulders jerked to wakefulness, Remus found himself being pulled from a light doze, back into the world of the living.

“Ow,” Hermione muttered softly, reaching for her wand.

“Let me,” he said softly, bracing himself up on one elbow. “ _Lumos_ ,”

Gentle light suffused the small space. Lifting his wand, Remus peered down at Hermione, who blinked owlishly up at him.

“Hello,” she murmured as she turned to lay on her side. Carefully, she reached out with a shaking hand to trace the angles of his face. “Am I still dreaming?”

“I don’t think so,” he murmured, entranced by the sensation of her touch.

“I dreamed about you often, during our travels.” Her thumb brushed across his lips. “Actually, I’ve dreamt of you since I was a little girl. I dreamt of your face, before I knew whose face it was that I saw every night. The day we met on the train, after the dementors took off, I thought if I were any happier, I would die. I didn’t understand any of it, until I overheard you and Sirius speaking that night, after the fight at the Department of Mysteries…”

Remus’s heart pounded in his chest as if it were going to explode from joy alone.

“Did you…” she dropped her hand.

“Yes,” he said immediately. “I dreamt of you almost every night in the past year. In the past _decade_ , at that, and more I think…”

“I meant to ask if you still hated me,” Hermione interrupted gently. “The last time we spoke…”

“Hate you?” he shook his head. “I never hated you. I questioned this _thing_ between us for all of a moment, but I never hated you. If anything, I have loved you for most of my life, without even realizing what… _who_ it was I loved,”

“Love?” her lips twisted wryly. “Is it truly that easy?”

“ _Easy?_ ” he laughed softly. Placing his glowing wand on the nightstand, Remus turned back to face Hermione. Tentatively, he reached up and cupped at her soft, downy cheek.

“For a whole year, I had to sit back and wonder if my Mate was living or dead, never actually knowing for sure. This comes after years of pining, and waiting for the right moment to tell you all that you are to me,” Remus said solemnly. “A moment which never did occur, by the way. I wouldn’t call what we went through _easy_ ,”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Hermione sighed. “I missed you this past year…I regretted how we left things. And yes, I do think I love you too. Which is completely insane, considering I actually know next to nothing about you,”

“Hermione,” he adored the feel of her name in his mouth. “I know you’re brave, loyal, kind…brilliant, ruthless…you’d do anything for those whom you love,”

“I’m also bossy and annoying, as no doubt your little canine friend knows,” she offered dryly, leaning in close.

“You’re all of those things,” Remus nodded. “Whereas I am a werewolf, whose tastes are quite simple. I find chocolate meets most of my needs. That, and the love of a bossy, swotty little bookworm,”

“Lets not forget - you’re also the bestselling author of an extremely campy set of Fantasy novels…books of which are about to be adapted into a television show on the BBC,” Hermione smirked, shifting herself so her face hovered over his. “ _Mr. Lemming_ indeed,”

He gaped at her in genuine surprise.

“Oh come _on_ Remus. It’s a story about four wayward squires stumbling towards knighthood. There’s a red-headed princess, who falls in love with the squire, whose sigil so happens to be a stag. There’s a short, fat traitor; one of the squires owns a black dog…and let’s not forget the squire named _Roland_ who rides under the banner of a snarling wolf,”

“Did you get to the part where Roland meets his wood nymph? His Hermia?” he asked quietly.

 _“She stood before him, painted silver by the light of the full moon. The nymph trembled in fear and bravery both as she beheld the strange man standing before her. Leaves were threaded through her wild curls. Her face was smeared with traces of the dark earth upon which they trod. Yet in all the years he had roamed the land, never had Roland beheld a lovelier sight,”_ he quoted.

Hermione’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson with every word he uttered. 

“My lady, I fear I am lost,” Remus confessed, no longer quoting his own work.

Surging upwards, he cupped the nape of her neck and gave in to his impulses. The moment his lips touched hers, euphoria engulfed his soul in a fiery wave.

Begrimed and soiled by the remnants of battle though they both were, kissing Hermione felt like coming _home_ ; kissing her felt like the ending of every fairy tale he had ever been told.

Against his body, Hermione trembled in ecstasy.

“Will it always be like this?” she gasped eventually when they broke their first, real kiss.

“I think so,” he breathed, brushing a curl from her beautiful, beloved face. “I would like to believe so. If you don’t mind, I’d like to spend the next forty years finding out,”

Her smile was sunrise after a long, cold night.

“Yes,” she said at last, before she leaned down to claim his lips once again. “Yes, I think that’s quite reasonable,”

As the two of them sealed their bond with unfettered enthusiasm, Remus understood that this wasn’t their happy ending. Not yet. Tomorrow, they would mourn, and grieve. There would be tears for the fallen, and hearts to mend. Sorrow would be theirs for days and days to come…

There would also be questions to answer, and tempers to quell.

However, holding on to the other piece of his soul, the werewolf knew that the darkness would not be forever.

For the first time in his life, Remus knew what it meant at last, to be utterly and wholly complete.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so...this fancast for Remus was Martin Freeman.


End file.
